Today’s Daily Prompt asks us to tell our stories about unconventional love, and my story is definitely unconventional. I am sorry if anyone is offended by it – it certainly isn’t meant to cause offense, but to tell my story. I hope that there are accepting people out there and that this is met without criticism, because criticism for one of the most difficult, heartbreaking, wonderful, amazing, beautiful, crazy years of my life is the last thing I need – my own mind is critical enough.
“I don’t understand how you can do it.”
“Can, could; are, were; whatever. You know what I mean.”
It’s not the first time that I’ve heard it, and I know that it won’t be the last. She is one of the few people back home who knows the full story, and it makes it more than a little uncomfortable to talk about with her. She was left behind to pick up after the mess of the year away from each other, but together all along.
There were a fair number of people on the other side of the world who knew all about it, but for some reason that didn’t seem to matter nearly as much to me. They were friends, good friends, but they were part of that life that seemed so unreal. It made it easier to talk about with them – I didn’t have to care if they hated me or judged me for it. They could judge me as they liked, but I was going to be gone in a year, a distant memory as faint as a figment of their imagination. The people who remained behind were the ones that really worried me, and were the less accepting.
For some reason, the people who were worst of all were those who should have known better, those who played a willing part and then turned their backs, suddenly resentful and suddenly accusing. From fun and happiness, love and acceptance came hatred and spite spurned from jealousy. All because of choices that they had knowingly made. There was never deceit or dishonesty. I was always perfectly open with everyone, willing to accept what came from my year of freedom.
I look back now with eyes untinted, seeing all that happened as a dream and, at times, a nightmare. There were choices that I made that I regret, without a doubt, but each of them taught me more about myself and about love, each of them a necessary stepping stone on the path to the woman that I needed to become. So, conventional or not, my love has led me to where I am today. And I am where I need to be and who I need to be with.
Other people who have stories to tell about unconventional love include:
Friends with benefits… | Hope* the happy hugger
But against | vicariously in love with you
Daily Prompt: « Mama Bear Musings
What’s In A Word | Tony’s Texts
God on the Hudson | One Man Versus the World
Dimples and Dreadlocks (Short Fiction) | The Jittery Goat
Who prays to have a best friend? | Daily Prompt: Unconventional Love | likereadingontrains
Unconventional Love | Nanuschka’s Blog
Daily Prompt: Unconventional Love | superalice
DP Challenge – Unconventional Love | Travels and Trifles